The Help
by peacefulsands
Summary: "Jensen's the one to ask," Pooch said to Aisha without coming out from under the car he was working on. "He's good at that kind of thing." - Aisha needs help and Jensen's the one to lend a hand.


**Title** : The Help

**Author** : peaceful_sands

**Fandom** : The Losers

**Characters** : Aisha, Jensen as main focus with appearances by Pooch, Clay and Cougar

**Rating** : PG-13

**Word Count** : 1,900 words approx.

**Author's Note** : This fic is for alex_kade who left me a prompt asking for _"__I want a fic with Aisha and Jensen. Not Cougar and J, but my gal in the way that I see her in my brain, which is not the bitchy comic book version, but still a bit harder and a lil more badass than the movie version. NOT het. Blech. She's Clay's woman.__Situation: She's in a bind (any kind - technologically, whumpy, not knowing what movie to see, picking out a *shudder* dress, etc) and J comes to the rescue! Any genre. _At this point I'm hoping she likes this :P

Also thanks to 'the girls' for looking it over and offering their betaing advice. Your help as always is appreciated.

** Disclaimer : **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><strong>The Help<strong>

"Jensen's the one to ask," Pooch said to Aisha without coming out from under the car he was working on. "He's good at that kind of thing."

The expression of disbelief was wasted. Jensen . . . Jensen! Of all the people Pooch could have suggested, Jensen was the last one she expected. Firstly, he was a geek and completely socially inept when it came to women as far as she had seen. Secondly, well, she'd seen Jensen and that spoke plenty for the likelihood of him being able to help her at all. Thirdly, since his utterly disastrous attempt at talking to her when she'd first spent time with the team, he'd avoided her like she'd got the plague. And avoiding was putting it politely. If he walked into a room and she was the only one there, he would blush, turn around and walk back out again. She would have thought he had a crush on her because he was acting like a teenage boy who'd only just begun to notice girls and wasn't quite sure they hadn't got cooties. Clay had laughed at that. Of course, there was as Clay had been quick to point out the very real possibility that Jensen didn't particularly like her since she'd shot him. She had to admit that he might have a point with that one, even if it had only been a little nick to the arm and she'd saved his life since.

So, she'd tried Pooch with no luck. Clay had just looked gobsmacked when she asked him and then muttered something about preparations and plans and being a Lieutenant Colonel. He'd looked so horrified that she hadn't bothered pointing out that he wasn't in fact a Lieutenant Colonel any longer; he wasn't even a real soldier. She hadn't been able to find Cougar, who she suspected would actually have been a good choice if she could talk him into it. After all, he had a better eye for women than Clay – certainly less of his women fell into the 'volatile' category.

She sighed and walked reluctantly down the corridor to knock on the door to Jensen's room. Last resort and all that. She heard the word, "Coming" through the door and the sound of movement. A few more seconds passed before the chain and latch on the door were lifted and Jensen stood there.

"Aisha . . . erm . . . Who were you looking for?" Jensen asked, looking round her as if expecting one of his team mates to be hiding behind her.

"You, Jensen. That's why I knocked on your door."

"Oh, right. Yeah . . . erm . . . Why?"

"I need some advice and you're going to be the one to help me." He looked completely startled, but instead of refusing, he pulled the door open further and waved her in. She looked round the room, surprised to see it so tidy, somehow she hadn't expected that. His bag was packed and stacked neatly in a corner, the only thing on display was his laptop and his wallet which lay alongside, although she was sure both of those would vanish from sight before he left the room. He gestured to the lone chair after closing the door and, as she sat down, he perched on the end of the bed, still looking completely unsure of himself.

* * *

><p>He'd actually been remarkably receptive to the suggestion once she'd overcome his initial reservation at even being in her presence. She had explained what she needed and he'd nodded, gone straight to his computer and pulled up googlemaps. Ten minutes later his laptop was away, his jacket was thrown over his shoulder and he was ushering her out of the room and down the stairs to a waiting cab.<p>

He'd been amazingly patient too as they moved from one target to the next. He didn't seem inclined to object to any of the locations she'd suggested and in fact had been the one to spot the better sites and in the latest spot, had merely directed her to wait where she was and then gone off to bring likely resources back to her.

Seriously, she was beginning to think if he ever gave up his current line of work, he could get good employment as a personal shopper. He was approaching her again, this time with a selection of dresses hanging over one arm and two pairs of shoes hanging from his other hand along with some sort of handbag. She sneered inwardly at the handbag, trying to keep the expression off of her face for the moment, although scathing words were already forming ready to be used as soon as he said something.

"Try this one first," he said as he held out a sleek but subtle red number. Not a glaring red but a deep red. It was also longer than she'd had in mind.

"Jensen –" she started only to be cut off when he held up a hand.

"Look, just humor me for an instant. Try it on and I'll tell you why this one, while you're changing. Okay?"

She snatched the dress from his hand with a glare, turning to head back into the fitting room and pulling the curtain across with a snap. She heard his sigh as she began to pull off her clothes. "Okay," his voice was only slightly muffled by the curtain. "It's more subtle than what you were looking at before. Less noticeable. Sure you looked pretty stunning in what you were wearing before but you're never going to be able to do any sneaking around when the eyes of every straight man in there is going to be on you. Trust me – about the straight men, not the trying to move around with them watching. I know it's longer than what you were thinking of, but again, it's going to stop you being the object of everyone's attention and it's not going to restrict your movement before you start thinking that. If you look at it, the skirt wraps around, falls deceptively straight and fitted when in fact, you could stride or run, hell you could probably even climb in it if you had to."

She looked at herself in the mirror and had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that the dress looked good on and did all the things that Jensen had said. "You ready yet?"

"Shoes," she grunted, not even mildly mollified when his hand sneaked round the side of the curtain without trying to open it or see through the gaps.

"High enough to be elegant and fitting for the occasion, easy enough to slip off if you absolutely need to and in the meantime you can move around in them easily."

Damn him, he was right. She wasn't going to say anything right now, but seriously – Jensen knew what he was talking about! She hated it when her preconceived notions were proved so glaringly wrong.

"I'm going to assume you've got those on and stick the handbag through now. You're going to want to carry something weaponwise – that dress is hardly made to conceal - well, anything, so that's what the bag is for. It works as a clutch bag or there's a strap you can pull out and wear it hanging. Versatility. Also supposing you make it in and get the papers, it's a way to carry them out whether you're running or just exiting like a normal human being. If you even know what one of those is," he added snidely. "Oh and a thank you, Jensen, wouldn't have gone amiss at some point during this outing. I'm going to assume by your silence that everything fits and does what I said and that I can go and get on with my own stuff now?"

She pulled back the curtain and stood in front of him, "Jensen, it's pretty good I think. I guess you did know what you were talking about and so did Pooch when he said you were the one to ask for help." It wasn't often she said thank you and even less often that she meant it, the words felt strange on her tongue.

He looked her over appraisingly. "Well?" he asked.

"It's good. I'll change back and take all of this. Would you wait for me?"

He nodded and leaned back against the wall as if waiting. She changed quickly and stepped out to join him and head for the cashier. They were walking back to the car before she spoke again, "So how did you know what would work? Because of your sister?"

He laughed, said, "No," but wouldn't elaborate any further.

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><p>Back at the house, she let Clay know that she'd found what she needed and that Jensen had helped. He nodded, seeming unsurprised, so she tried again, "How come Jensen's good at that?"<p>

"Jensen? Jensen's good at loads of stuff . . . I don't keep him around for his good looks and boyish charm, you know."

Frustrated, she walked away.

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><p>Pooch was kicked back relaxing in the bar when she found him. Cougar and Jensen were playing pool, so she slid into the seat next to him and tried again. "It was a good idea to ask Jensen. He did pretty well at helping."<p>

Pooch snorted, "Pretty well? Jensen knocked the ball out of the court and you know it."

"He wasn't bad," she agreed. "So after you, I was going to try Cougar, you know, see what his opinion was."

"Cougs? Wouldn't have been able to tell you a damn thing."

"Figured he'd have a more refined taste than Jensen," she said, aiming for nonchalant and not sure whether she'd managed it or not.

"Ha!" Pooch almost spat his beer as he laughed at Aisha's comment. "Trust me, Jensen was the better option."

"So how come he knows that stuff?"

"He's Special Ops."

Aisha glared, knowing full well that Pooch was yanking her chain. He raised his glass to her and stood up, moving across to join Cougar and Jensen at the pool table.

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><p>"So, Cougar," she started when she finally managed to catch Cougar on his own. He raised an eyebrow. "Jensen helped me pick out a dress for this job."<p>

She got a nod in return and pressed on. "He was pretty good at picking one out. It was a bit of a surprise. I didn't think he'd know much about dresses and stuff. After all, he's not much good with women."

That had been a mistake, Cougar glared at her, she apologized rather than anger him further trying to prove her point. "So where'd he learn to be so good?" she tried instead.

Cougar shrugged, pushed back from the table and took his mug of coffee elsewhere.

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><p>The job was done, the dress had served its purpose and they were moving on to a new town. As she folded it to pack, she realized it had served more than one purpose. She accomplished the job as she'd needed to and the dress was a major factor in that, but it had also served to tell her that there was a lot more to Jensen than she had ever thought and that so far she'd barely scraped the surface. She'd also learned that she might be working with the Losers, but she wasn't one of them and she wouldn't be any time soon.<p> 


End file.
